How to Pick the Perfect Souvenir When Travelling
It’s easy to buy clunkers when you’re caught up in the moment. But regrettable purchases aren’t inevitable.
It’s easy to buy clunkers when you’re caught up in the moment. But regrettable purchases aren’t inevitable.
Trying to buy just the right souvenir on a trip is a risky business. You can wind up with a lifetime treasure—or an albatross you feel stuck with forever.
Consider the giant painting of a chicken flying out of Cuba that has been hanging over our couch in Palos Verdes, Calif., for the past 15 years. Buying it cheaply seemed to make sense when we were in Havana, since my husband’s family had fled the country after the revolution.
But the flying chicken just didn’t seem as, well, poignant by the time we returned home and hung the 4-by-7-foot painting. No guest has ever said a word about it. “I can’t help you with the chicken,” an art dealer told me long ago when I asked for help in selling it.
So, how do you find the right souvenir? Or is there even any such thing?
For many people, the answer to the second question is an unqualified “No,” and they have stopped trying. “Souvenirs never look as enticing or beautiful as they did at the time of purchase once you get them home,” warns Patricia Schultz, the author of “1,000 Places to See Before You Die.”
After collecting rugs on her trips, then Christmas ornaments, before running out of room at home for both, Schultz says, “I have gone cold turkey. I collect memories.”
But for others, surrendering just won’t do. “It’s intrinsic when people travel that they wind up bringing a keepsake of the journey,” says Rolf Potts, the author of “Souvenir,” a book that traces the history of travel souvenirs back to the earliest recorded journeys.
“It can be a way to show off,” he says. “Much like the envy-inducing travel posts on Instagram.” But for many people, he says, “It’s proof you were there, not only to show other people but also for yourself.”
For those who lean in this direction, there are ways to help avoid regrets. Tara Button , founder of the Buy Me Once website, and the author of “A Life Less Throwaway: The Lost Art of Buying for Life,” suggests focusing on practical items that fit your lifestyle and double as mementos.
As an example, she once bought a “very affordable” baby blanket made from alpaca fiber on a trip to Peru and now uses it every day. The blanket not only reminds her of “the time pre-children when I was traveling,” she says. “It goes over my 2-year-old son every night. It’s always soft and always gorgeous.”
She has a friend who collects one cup from each destination. “Those are perfect memory keepers,” she says. “A small item that is used every day.”
One obstacle to finding the right souvenir is that it can be hard to think practically when you are swept up in the excitement of a new culture. Consider the Burmese puppet, 15 inches tall, that has spent about two decades in the closet of Liz Einbinder , head of public relations for Backroads, an adventure-tour company.
“We saw a lot of puppets everywhere and just got caught up in all of the Burmese art and culture,” she says. Now she wonders, “Why did I bring this back? It sits in the back of my closet and I can’t seem to get rid of it. It creeps me out when I see it.”
When that buying urge sweeps over you, Button and other travel experts suggest pausing to consider your lifestyle, taste, needs, and the scale of your home—you’re going back to the reality of your everyday life, after all.
But that doesn’t necessarily mean being entirely practical. Einbinder collects miniatures, mostly miniature houses, from every country, and has more than a hundred. Most are in storage, but she keeps a little London bus and a little Egyptian pyramid on her desk. For her, souvenirs aren’t just about memories, they’re also about the hunt. “It gives me something to search for” on each trip, she says. “That’s half the fun.”
Another way travelers often go wrong is by giving in to pressure, or at least persistence, from salespeople.
When Kimba Hills, an interior designer, went to Morocco, she hired a guide who took her to a rug store in Fez, where the dealers delivered a whirlwind sales pitch while serving tea. She wound up buying a $4,000 flat-weave Turkish rug, measuring about 13 feet by 9 feet.
“No one in my group could believe I got seduced,” she says.
When the rug finally arrived at her home in Santa Monica, “It smelled like cow dung,” she says. Washing the rug was going to change the color.
When she called the dealer in Fez and demanded her money back, he refused, offering to send her a different rug instead. “We got into a yelling match,” says Hills. “All my skills went out the window.”
Looking back, she says, “You are in a buying mode because you are there and feel like you should buy something.” On a recent trip to Mexico, she bought nothing, explaining, “I’m wiser.”
Spontaneity can cut both ways. There’s the chicken painting. But waiting for inspiration to strike, rather than planning to go home with a souvenir, can still help.
Henry Zankov, a sweater designer, says that when he travels, he explores his destinations with the idea that he won’t buy anything unless he comes across something he loves. He still buys plenty, but says “I don’t have regrets.” At his home in Brooklyn, he has ceramics, vases and glassware from shops he found randomly in Spain, Greece, and Italy. “I buy what I have to have,” he says.
There are times he doesn’t find anything. “So I just give up,” he says. “It’s OK.”
Some souvenirs do become the treasure of a lifetime.
Annie Lucas , the co-owner of MIR, which offers tours to less-traveled destinations, became captivated by a mirror on a trip to Morocco. It was made with hand-pounded silver and pieces of camel bones.
She went back to the store three or four times, debating the cost and whether she would regret it once she got home. It was heavy and measured 24 inches by 40 inches.
“That was 15 years ago, and I still treasure it,” she says. “If I had to get out of my house and had only five minutes to pack, I would grab that off the wall.”
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China is launching the first regular Arctic cargo route to Europe, offering faster journeys and lower fuel costs as melting ice and Red Sea risks reshape global shipping.

Shipping cargo through an Arctic shortcut never made economic sense—until now.
Climate change and war in the Middle East are flipping the math that previously kept ships plying longer routes from Asia to Europe. A Chinese company on Saturday is starting the first regular cargo service to Europe through Arctic waters, seeking to reap the benefits of quicker travel time and less fuel use.
The shipper Sea Legend will dispatch the Dubai Tower from Ningbo, China, to Felixstowe in the U.K. on what it calls the Arctic Express, following a route along Russia’s north coast. The voyage by the vessel, which is capable of carrying 1,740 20-foot containers, is the biggest commercial step in the Arctic since a Maersk containership first completed the route in 2018.
Global warming is a big factor behind the new route, but it is not the only one. Nearly half the Arctic region’s summer ice—an area four times the size of Texas—has melted over five decades, clearing a fairly reliable path in the summer months. Meanwhile, high oil prices and attacks by Houthi rebels in the Red Sea have made the traditional routes costlier and more dangerous.
Beyond that, Beijing has ambitions to play a role in the Arctic’s future, lending a geopolitical dimension to the Chinese company’s shipping route.
Last year Sea Legend completed a trial run from Asia to Europe in a record 20 days. That is roughly half the time of a voyage via Africa’s Cape of Good Hope that many carriers now take because of the Red Sea uncertainty.
Fuel accounts for 70% or more of the costs while at sea, said Alan Murphy, a former Maersk analyst who runs research firm Sea-Intelligence.
Saving fuel by shortening the journey doesn’t automatically make a route profitable. Insurance premiums for the Arctic are 40% higher than the Cape of Good Hope route, said Jonathan Steenberg, an economist at credit insurer Coface. Sea Legend’s Arctic vessels are relatively small. And even after warming, an icebreaker is still sometimes needed to help the cargo ship.
But if the ship can go without an icebreaker, Coface said the Arctic route is now cheaper than a Cape of Good Hope voyage in some circumstances. It estimated that at current oil prices of around $90, the cost of shipping liquid bulk such as liquefied natural gas could drop roughly 33% compared with the Cape of Good Hope route, while dry bulk goods such as cereals would cost about 8% less.
The route is only passable in the summer and fall. Sea Legend plans eight voyages between August and late October, before conditions get too icy.
“It’s not the Suez Canal but it’s a significant number for the Arctic. It shows there is potential,” said Malte Humpert, founder of the U.S.-based Arctic Institute and author of a book on Chinese shipping in the Arctic.
Even in summer, ships have to navigate around dangerous ice floes and deal with rapidly changing weather. By the end of the shipping season in October, the sky is dark most of the time.
A Russian tanker suffered serious damage to its hull while sailing along the Arctic route despite being assisted by an icebreaker, its insurer, AlfaStrakhovanie, said Thursday, adding that it paid out roughly $650,000.
Coface estimates 3.5% of trade among East Asia, Europe and North America will be able to use Arctic routes within the next five years, representing $64 billion in goods.
Last summer, a record 23 cargo ships transited the Northern Sea Route, which hugs Russia’s north coast. That is tiny compared with the Suez Canal, where more than 30 ships transited daily.
Western companies that want to follow in Sea Legend’s path have to navigate treacherous politics. Russia claims sovereignty over the entire Northern Sea Route and permits for ship traffic are issued by its state-controlled nuclear operator, Rosatom.
“Western companies are in a tricky position,” said Humpert of the Arctic Institute. “At what point do they jump back in the water? When does it become economically necessary, and how do you weigh that against environmental risks and the political dimension?”
An alternative Arctic route, the Northwest Passage that connects the Atlantic and Pacific oceans via the Canadian Arctic, is less passable because it is dominated by narrow waterways where ice gets bunched up. The highest number of cargo ships completing the passage in a year was 13, in 2023.
China has declared itself a near-Arctic state despite not having access to Arctic waters. It depends on Russia’s goodwill to use the Northern Sea Route.
“Beijing is concerned that if they don’t establish a significant strategic presence in the Arctic now, it’s going to be more difficult in the future,” said Marc Lanteigne, expert in polar geopolitics at the Arctic University of Norway in Tromsø. However, he said, “China needs to be careful not to give the impression that they are trying to challenge the strategic order in the Arctic.”
Sea Legend didn’t respond to requests for comment.
Any polar venture contributes to China’s quest to master Arctic travel. The country also has three icebreakers and a support vessel currently on a monthslong scientific expedition north of Greenland. Scientific and commercial voyages can yield data about natural resources awaiting below melting ice caps and information for positioning nuclear-armed submarines.
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